Plugged in
by Enigma11
Summary: a one-shot (maybe?) from the Second Renaissance. Could be PG-13, but R just in case


I own nothing. This is how I thought the whole plugging people into the very first Matrix process went. It might be completely wrong, or it might not be. I dunno.

***

Dear Mom and Dad,

_I don't know if you are ever going to read this. If you do, that's good. If you don't you wouldn't even know I wrote it in the first place which is also good. All I want to tell you is that I'm tired of living like this. I'm tired of machines ruling the Earth. I don't want to be controlled by them any more. What we did to them is nothing compared to what they're doing to us. I want out. If you read this, don't go looking for me. And if you do, you won't find me the way you would like to. I'm hoping that there is some place that we go after death. Maybe there is a Heaven, or some place that doesn't involve pain. Even If there isn't, Hell would be a much better place than here. _

-I will love you always. Heather

Heather James sat back in her computer chair, looking at the letter she had typed. She read it over and over making sure everything that needed to be said was said. As she finished reading the last words, she pressed the print button on Microsoft Word, satisfied with what she wrote. The paper slid out of the printer, ink quickly drying on the white paper. She picked up the paper and reread it again. A teardrop spilled on the paper, and slowly rolled down the page, smearing the newly dry ink. It didn't matter. All Heather wanted was for her thoughts to exist somewhere other than in her own head. It was intended for her parents to see, but they wouldn't be around to see it. They were supposed to be home six hours ago, but they never came home. Her parents were never late for anything. Heather finally accepted that the machines got them. It was only a matter of time until they would get her too. Which was why she got up from her chair to go to the kitchen. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She was a mess. Her waist length black hair hung in greasy tendrils and her black eye makeup was smeared all over her face. Mismatched clothes, chains and spikes everywhere, chipped black nail polish standing out against white nails. Heather sighed and looked away, hating her own reflection as she trudged on to the kitchen, black soled boots leaving marks along the floor. She rounded a corner and entered the dark kitchen. It was always dark these days. Whenever she looked out the window she saw darkness. There was no sky anymore, just black. The sun had long since given up trying to peek through the black shield that covered the Earth. 

Heather opened up the silverware drawer and searched around for the sharpest knife that her parents kept. She didn't want her life to be ended by the machines. If anyone was to take her life, it would be her. There was a loud crack as some machine rammed the door. "Shit," Heather whispered as she searched faster through the drawer. The knife wasn't there. There was another crack on the door as Heather picked up a different knife. The door flew open, as the knife touched Heather's wrist, drawing blood as the blade crept closer to the main vein. She felt cold metal grab her waist and jerk her foreword as the knife crashed to the floor. The machine dragged her out of her house and into the freezing air. Heather tried to break free of the machines grip as she called out for help. But no one was around in the ruined buildings around her. Snow fell through holes in ceilings and walls of buildings that no one inhabited any more. Teardrops fell on the new snow. Tears that were black from mixing with mascara and eyeliner as the machine marched on. Heather saw an explosion from the building that was once her house as a flying machine flew up from the ruin. Heather finally decided to give up and let the machine take her to wherever it was going. Its cold metal grip couldn't be loosened. The machine stopped and readjusted it's grip on Heather before it bent it's knees and took off into the sky. They were miles above the Earth, flying in the infinite darkness that was the sky. Heather's hair whipped her in the face as they gained speed. Heather looked at the smoldering Earth below her. Small explosions were happening everywhere as homes were being burned. They started to slow down and drop. They landed smoothly on the ground and the machine started to walk again. It climbed a steep hill, and after what seemed like hours, they were faced with tall poles reaching up to the sky so high that Heather couldn't see the top. They each had millions of, what seemed like to Heather, pink lights shining against the darkness. The machine lurched foreword, still gripping Heather tightly. They made their trek down the hill. When they got to the bottom, the machine that was holding Heather let go and another took her. Heather didn't bother to try to get away. The machine hovered a few feet off the ground, and when it got hold of Heather, it zoomed up toward the sky. Heather saw that the pink lights she saw were actually pods, each containing one human. Each human had wires attached to their bodies. Heather forgot what was happening, as she realized that these towers kept the entire human race in those pods. The machine stopped at an empty pod. It was clear. There was no pink. The machine laid her in the pod. Heather struggled to get out, but the machine held her arms and legs so she couldn't move. She screamed out to anyone who could help her. But no one would come. Her clothes were ripped off and pain exploded through her body as something dug into her biceps and forearms. She opened her eyes and saw black plugs shoved in her arms, blood dripping out of the sides. More plugs were shoved through her chest, above her breasts as she squeezed her eyes shut and cried out in pain. She was flipped harshly onto her stomach, arms and legs still pinned. One by one, ten black plugs were shoved along her spinal cord. Heather gritted her teeth and screamed through them. Two huge plugs were rammed on each side of her back. Everything stopped for a second, which crawled by like an eternity. Immense pain ripped through the back of her skull as the last plug was inserted into her. Then darkness.

Hannah James bolted up in bed, breathing hard, sweat dripping down her face and down her back, soaking her sheets. She looked around her room. Everything was where it was supposed to be. There were no machines running around, and no scorched sky. Hannah laid down, breathing slowly returning to normal. As she looked up at the ceiling, she uttered five words: "It was all a dream."

***

A/N Ok, I know that some of what I wrote isn't accurate, I haven't watched the Second Renaissance enough times. It's just my take on how the machines did the plugging in process. So no flames please, just constructive criticism. 


End file.
